I really have no afternoons free
for as far forward as I can see--except Sundays, which I devote entirely
to Tertius and religion. No woman ought to separate the two--love of God,
love of husband in God. Sooner or later, all women learn it. Then the
mornings are naturally occupied with the house and the children. They have
Miss Meadows; but she is young and absurdly inconsequent. I don't see how
you can expect a girl in her teens to work miracles. In fact, I don't want
her to, and am at hand to see that she doesn't.
I have spoken to Tertius, and you must forgive me for saying that we both
think, under the circumstances, it would look, and be, better in every way
if you came here, in the first instance. Without discussing what is done,
and (I pray) done with, you will see, I think, that for me _to seek you
out_ would be, to say the least of it, unusual. You left our father's
house for reasons of your own; I had left it to be married to Tertius.
Forgiveness, if you wish it from me, is yours: countenance of the step you
took--never. You will not ask it. So come here any morning that suits you,
and I shall be pleased. You will find me ready to do everything I can, to
put you on your proper footing in the sphere to which you were born.
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